


The Joy of Melancholy

by Qwindmaster



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Music, Musicians, Original Character(s), Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26188399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qwindmaster/pseuds/Qwindmaster
Summary: It's a story about a guy named Giovanni living in a city that doesn't exist. Nothing special happens, though. He's just a regular guy living his life. I got tired of writing stories about magic and other fantastic things, and wanted to write about a guy living his life.





	1. Smoke in the Eyes of a Lone Sky

**Author's Note:**

> I have never felt comfortable posting my writing before, but I felt like this was decent enough for me to at least post. I really love writing, but I don't think I am that great at it despite my best efforts.
> 
> I wrote a lot of fantasy stories in the past, and I guess I just got bored of it. Even in my later fantasy stories, I grounded much of the characters in reality rather than I wanted them to be. My stories felt very messy like this, so I changed it up. This isn't really meant to be a happy story, nor is it really sad, but it's just about one person's life.
> 
> Yeah this is an original work, so I didn't put any tags lol (also I just don't quite know how they works; can someone explain it?). I guess this site is designed around fan fiction and it makes sense. I am not really a fan of it, however, and am just here to post some of the stories that I have written. I hope you enjoy, despite that this story is not written for you

There is always a beach, a shoreline of assurance. The end of the world, and beyond the sea is something that no man or woman can reach on their own merit. Considering that, boats and planes can travel beyond the end, passing beyond the horizon to a world that is unknown and unknowable. Technology has made it possible for us to go beyond our natural boundaries physically, and it is only a matter of time before technology allows us to go beyond our natural boundaries again.

That is what seems to be an issue, however. As I lay on this beach, I think about how we can travel beyond the horizon, when that was an impossibility many years ago. I do not think those people could have even fathomed the idea that man could walk the moon. I think that is because human ambition is far more exceptional than human morality. Because our intelligence increases every generation, consider how much our morality has grown. While looking at history, it has considerably grown, but not as much as technology. Consider the state of morals in the world 100 years ago, and then the state of technology. It was difficult to fly a plane 100 years ago, while our morality has fallen into stagnation. The issue lies within the evolution of both. Morality evolves much slower than technology does. For a generation of technology can pass in a year, a generation of morality passes in decades.

How little these things matter to the people sitting here on this beach. They are only thinking of these present moments, never the future of their lives. However, isn't that just as beautiful as looking to the future? This present moment is irreplaceable. To be living truly in this time, on this beach. And so should I! This beach is a gateway to another world, not the other world itself, but the passage. The edge of two worlds meeting here, two states of mind colliding here at a place of peace. And here am I, in a chair with a cigarette in my hand.

Now this thing in my hand can be many things. On the one hand, it is a means of control. Controlling a substance is a challenge in itself. To feel obligated to not become a slave to this object is difficult. But if you are dedicated and motivated, it is easy to stop. But it can become a change. A new kind of prison, and a burden that you don't want but keeps pulling you back in. It is a curse, yes, but it is not impossible to overcome. It can feel very easy to be a slave to it, but I wouldn't say I am in that position yet.

In some ways, a habit as such is the only thing one can control. It is completely our choice to be an addict, a user, or to abstain from it. It is our choice to feel the buzz or to feel free from it. Whether we become a slave to it or not, it is completely our control. So if I have chosen it, and yet I don't want to, part of me pulls me to it. But walking away is much easier said than done.

At least, it is better to have awareness of the conditions than to not acknowledge the issue. That does not go for just a habit, but with anything. Everyone is a glutton for something, and at least when it is a substance, it is an obvious sin. For those obsessed with spending, with beauty and vanity, with status and greed, those are addictions all the same. I swear it, let nothing consume me to my own destruction.

Now, there! A child running towards the water. A little girl , only about the age of five, without a single concern for the world around her. Yet maybe instead, she has all the concern for the world. She just does not see herself as the world, as many of the rest of these people do. This little girl, she is much more concerned with her enjoyment in this moment. She is not thinking of her appearance, nor is she thinking about her friends; Hell, she isn't even thinking about where her next meal is coming from. She is simply enjoying this present moment. Yet, she will probably forget this beautiful time, and concern her mind with the things that "matter" to her, when it seems like much more often. Beauty lies in these moments that don't matter.

Watch as her mother keeps an eye on her, her watchful protector, on this beach full of monsters! Surely there is a wolf among the sheep, but the herd is a safe place. However, her mother is bound to duty to this little girl. We all have that kind of duty to something. And mine is calling me now. On the phone, a terrible fate is calling me away from this peaceful ocean. My manager, which is also a bitch, but also my mother. Not that she is a bitch all of the time, but only when she is the manager. I answer the phone with my usual response of, "Yes, Mother." and depart this plot of heaven, while, of course, doing my natural part of earthly destruction by throwing my cigarette into the ocean.

In a flash of orange and glamour, I ride my moped through the busy streets, yelling at pedestrians to move before I snatch their designer bags. Some even try and hit me with them, which gives me permission to grab their bag, and see how fast I can empty their bag before the end of the block. At my pace of life, being disrespectful is an art, as well as a compliment. I mean, I have been given a perfect position to be disrespectful, under my mother and an occupation that I have been forced into. There is nothing to be happy over, not even my pay, which is much less pay, and much more allowance. Living in a constant state of bitterness is somehow nicer than living in a state of silence. At least I am allowed that.

There was this one particular individual, who felt it was their duty to stand in my way, even risking my clean record while at it. This specific individual, well this self-entitled woman, looked at me as if I had committed a felony, when this was clearly a misdemeanor or a traffic offense.

"You can't do that!" The woman shrieked, as she began to order me to drive in the road. However, I didn't feel like that was very safe for me.

"Look, ma'am. You really shouldn't step in front of vehicles like you did. My breaks will get worn if I slam on them like that." I said apathetically.

She then began to scold me about how I could hurt someone if I was driving like this on the sidewalk. However, the only person who was in direct danger from me was her, and only because she felt like it was necessary to step in front of me. She continued to talk, as I honked through her nagging, and slowly inched my way past her, without feeling the terrible wrath of entitlement. She had a point, but she didn't realize that I had already considered those things; I just didn't care. Did she have to patronize me? Was that necessary or would you have rather saved the both of us a few minutes of our lives that we just wasted?

I stopped in front of the apartment to pick up my sister, who was also bound to this ball and chain that was our mother. Luckily, she was much more pleasant than my mother. Juliette was a much less like me in attitude, but much more like me in interest. Familial bonds remain strong in our family. She hopped on the back of my moped, and we drove away.

"You smell like an ashtray!" She told me.

"Lovely, I will enjoy explaining that one to mother." I said, when I pulled out a bottle of cologne from the compartment, and gave myself a proper treatment. It didn't rid my musk, but it made it better, nevertheless. Juliette was always so polite, but still quiet abrasive at times. She was more rude to me at times, but could control herself, while that skill was something i did not have.

"I mean, it's probably not a good idea to be a smoker and play saxophone, you know?" She said to me.

"Well, mother shouldn't always be on my ass about it all. I am an adult now, and it's just fortunate that we're a jazz band that is also a family." I said to her, and somewhat to myself.

I have to realize no matter how autocratic my manager is, she still is my mother. No matter how harshly she treats me, even when it feel like a professional relationship, I couldn't not love that woman. My situation is just not what I want it to be, but at the same time, I have no idea where I want to be. Juliette sank her hand into my coat pocket, and managed to pull out the pack of cigarettes, only to hold onto them herself. But her taking them made me want a cigarette, even though the smoke would get into my eyes.

We arrived at the restaurant, as the rest of my family was prepared outside. We had been preforming at the Sea Biscuit for some time now, though it had no ties to the American racehorse, as many Americans come for find out. A "sea biscuit" is a dish served here, common in this area, but first served here. However, many Americans come here in hopes to glamorize a horse that no one cared about until it was popular to care about. It was always pretty common for nicer restaurants to host live music, and the Sea Biscuit was very good at helping us. Though generally, I was rather fond of the food and the cute waitresses. There was plenty of space on the two-story restaurant, and we had to play pretty loudly to be heard all around the building.

"We're about to go on!" My mother rushed my sister and I our instruments, as we walked out onto the stage, and played our set. Mom was on the mic and also played trumpet, Juliette played the piano, and Viola on the trombone, and my little brother Romeo on the drums. Cousin Joey has filled in for my dad as bassist, and I did some singing with my mom.

It was always such a rush playing in front of these people. It had lost its splendor, especially from when I was younger and had to wear a suit. It was much more relaxed now, especially for my generation. My mom still wore a classy dress, but we wore clothes that were considered acceptable dress in such restaurants. Since mom always held the attention of the crowd, we had less eyes on us.

Shows always went in a similar way. Playing nearly every night, we did not really practice because no amount of practice prepares you for the stage. There always were some errors in jazz, but it always seemed like it was intentional. It was hard to tell for others, but for myself, I was harsh on myself for making a mistake. Even when everyone told me it was fine and they couldn't even tell, it stuck with me. Luckily tonight, I did not make any mistakes.

It was a good night for everyone. Mom's voice was not shaky, Juliette played perfectly, and it was just great. However, I seemed to luck out even a little more tonight, as I caught a certain girl's eye, from the balcony looking down on me. She seemed to have been acquainted with some very wealthy people, maybe friends or family. All this did was scare me, but at the same time, that fear made it even more exciting. She was a beautiful woman, rather shy in her mannerisms, with these haunting eyes that I noticed. She seemed stressed about the talk they had over dinner, but she surely smiled at me.

During a break, I took my cigarettes back from Juliette and wondered up to the smoking area and bar, separate from the dining area. It overlooked the sea, as the sun set on this warm summer day. I had myself a glass of something easy, and watched the sun go down on this rather mild day. But this view was the painting, not able to be captured by a photo, and words hardly suffice. Only the stroke of a brush could do it justice.

A person came and sat next to me. I thought it was Juliette or my mother, but no. It was that girl that I had noticed before. She sat beside me, pretending that she had not noticed me. It was hard to believe that, since there were so many other open seats. She asked for something hard, which caught my attention the most.

"Not going easy, then? Straight to it, I guess." I commented, in my somewhat blase tone, signalling her to pay attention to my drink.

"Seems like you can't handle it." She boasted, in her soft, accented voice. It was hard to tell from such little conversation where she came from. Somehow, it was just as beautiful as I imagined.

"Well, usually I have wine. I'm feeling quite American drinking this beer." I lamented. I truly did not really care for beer, having a preference towards vino. However, it was on the house, and nothing beats free.

"Ah, I see. Sorry if I seem so forward, but you're pretty talented." She admired, "I just needed a minute to step away from my family."

"Me too, I guess." I put out my cigarette. "My mom doesn't like it when I smoke."

"It's a horrible habit, you know." She said, which I heard as, "I demand you to stop for the sake of your lungs, dammit!"

"Yeah, I know. I'll probably just grow out of this habit someday." I said with some certainty. "It is one of the things that I can control, you know?"

"Yeah, I understand what you are saying." She chuckled a little bit. "My name is Adele, by the way."

"God, I love that name! I am Giovanni. Giovanni Valenti." I told her my last name as a force of habit as then many know that I am part of this band. "A lot of people call me Joey though, since Joseph is my middle name, but you can call me what ever you'd like."

"Well, what do you like to be called?" She asked politely.

"It really depends on how close people are to me." I said honestly. "Maybe we can get coffee or something and see?"

"I haven't quite decided if that is what I want." She gave me a strange look of admiration and worry. "I mean, I am not even sure if you have really decided that either or you're just being polite."

"I mean how am I gonna know unless I know?" I confusingly said, confusing myself more than her.

"Don't talk to rich girls that often, I guess?" She sort began to flaunt her expensive things, seeing if they would really grab me. It didn't really, but I was still surprised by this action. "My family works in a certain business."

"Oh, gosh. This almost sounds...criminal. It sounds like your life is pretty damn interesting. I have made up my mind about that coffee date though." 

"I think I have too." She asked the bartender for a napkin, wrote down a number, with her name and heart beside it. "I do need to go back to my family, though. Good luck with the rest of your show!" She said to me, leaving me behind to admire the sunset. In that moment, instead of watching the sky falling down to show the stars, I looked back at Adele, walking painfully and hopefully away from me. She looked back at me as well, as her eyes told me that I was someone more than just a name. I felt more than a human in that moment.

I returned to my first love, as I pulled out another cigarette. This thing in my hand that I control, this will always be my first love. No matter how far we may separate, we are bound to each other. For this slavery, I felt broken and unworthy. There is very little pride in any addiction, since I knew there was no pride for a slave. To be owned by something is to lower ourselves to that of an item and not a human. That is why I know I must stop this. But it is not a good day to quit.

I was well acquainted with this feeling. Of feeling unfulfilled with my own life. I couldn't tell what was the cause, but I just knew that I wasn't happy, nor was I sad. I felt like nothing and everything was okay. But I relished in this moment! I felt that my life was paradoxical, that the word live was an oxymoron. It was all so much for me, for my mind alone. Giovanni Joseph Valenti, what would be my story? What would they say about me?

Another person came and sat next to me.

"You should probably get back on stage, you fiend." A familiar voice rang, with a musk akin to a casino. I knew exactly who it was.

"Niko! I'm surprised you're here, seeing how much you work." I said to my best friend.

"Well, you know how it is. I gotta see the amateur play the sax at this nice ass venue." He looked around at all the people in the restaurant. "How the hell did your mom get this gig?"

"I dunno. Ask my mom."

"Oh, I will later tonight when I..." he stopped, as my mother, a very loud woman, said hello to Niko.

"Joey! Put out that damn cigarette!" She scolded me, as she hugged and kissed Niko. I pressed the end of my cigarette against the bottom of my boot. "We're on in 5, but after the show, you can do whatever you want tonight." She pulled me away from him.

"Yeah, Let's go after the show."


	2. A Vain Hustle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giovanni and Niko find friends and have a restful evening

It was just the two of us. Niko and I were together after both of us had some time to actually talk to each other, have a smoke, and just walk the town. My sister harassed me to give me the keys to the moped, but I refused, eventually throwing the keys at her feet to put Adele's number in my pocket. I didn't want to mess up the napkin, and crumple the beautiful feminine handwriting.

"Damn. You know what I don't like?" Niko had made as a passing remark upon seeing tourists.

"Americans, I presume?"

He nodded, and took a hit from his cigarette. "I've begun to really despise their antics recently. The ones who live here are better than the tourists, but damn... it still bothers me."

"I know. Honestly, I've never met an American with proper manners. They don't even know how to greet people here!" I shouted softly.

This is when we watched one causally pass us by, looking at us strangely. The American guy seemed interested in us in some way, and had the audacity to—I mean the courage to speak to us.

"Hello? Are you guys musicians?" He asked forwardly. This was typically something I answered honestly, but this guy asked if complete out of the blue. Also, how did he have any clue who we were? Our clothes didn't scream musicians, either. I chalked it up to him knowing me from a performance or something, I just obliged him.

"I play some." I spoke in a demeaning yet innocent tone. The man looked me up and down, and from his expression, he probably was expecting something a bit different than myself.

"Ah, I think I recognize you, from the Sea Biscuit, if I do recall correctly." He said more modestly. Now, he seemed more like a local than a tourist. I was beginning to think he might have been someone I have heard of.

"Yeah, I play there." I said to the American, when closely behind him followed a foreign man. It was seemingly his friend, or something rather closer than that. This man was not a stranger to me, but I knew of him because we were both in the music circle.

"Ah, Jo and Niko, how pleasant to see you two here in the Hustle." The foreign man said in his strange accent. "You may have heard of me, but my name is Ramus." he bowed to us.

"Ramus? I've heard the name before." Niko remembered. "You are a pretty good guitarist here in the Hustle, especially with electric guitar." Though Niko recalled, I hardly ever came to the shows in the Hustle, which laid southwest of the Yards. The Hustle was a place for many musical artists to perform on the street, and possibly take up a venue. It was known to be a ruthless place, but a place to climb and a place to fall. Niko was here much more often than I was.

"It is an honor to meet someone from the Hills like yourself, Jo." He grabbed my hand, and kissed it. "And the Valentis have such talent, you truly are an amazing family."

"It is an honor to meet you too, Ramus. And who might you be?" I turned to the American.

"My name is Danny." he said pretty forwardly and strangely. We introduced ourselves properly to Danny, wide-eyed but having very little clue to who we were. It seemed like he was very new to the city, or at least the music scene in the Hustle. Ramus was a respectable man, who was strangely Egyptian as we figured out, and Danny was nice, but still a bit timid. A strange man in a strange city, living among some of the more respected musicians in this scene. I am sure that he is pretty slow to our interactions. But I was certain that he felt above them a little.

"Where are you two headed?" Ramus asked us, with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

"Not exactly sure, probably some dive with an angel that can soothe my mind, while falling asleep in some bottle." Niko announced.

"Oh, that sounds quite lovely. You mind if the both of us tag alone with you? I am sure that Danny would appreciate a night with you guys. He used to sing some as well, Jo. I am sure you could give him some pointers." Ramus insisted.

"Oh certainly." I said, but only because Ramus' flamboyance was so enamoring. It was so certainly difficult to ignore a man like Ramus. Even the most glamorous people cannot ignore someone like him. It was either out of disgust or of intrigue that you could not take your eyes off of him. With his perfected make-up, his long hair, his attractive face. Something about him was entrancing, though it was not something I could put my finger on.

We made our way down the street, listening through all the noise for a woman's serenade. It was always a sense of morose in this part of town. I looked through a door to catch an artist on stage performing. To rise, many had to take whatever gig they could, and this guy seemed like he had taken this one out of pity. I looked at him, a talented musician singing songs that I could recite perfectly. However, he was much like the rest of them. Hopeful, but ultimately the same as most everyone else. He was just like them all. I saw him, knowing full well he would never leave that stage for the rest of his career.

That was a prevalent here. You had to be great to be known, and different to be noticed. Restaurants would send recruiters to listen for artists to see if musicians could replicate a sound that was desired for the restaurant. It was difficult though, because one tendency could mean one will never get a better gig than this. For example, restaurants never recruit male lead singers, only female or as a backup singer. I don't know exactly why that was, but it was just a known requirement. Still, many guys try it, knowing full well they'll never make it out of this dive. The singer looked out to me, seemingly recognizing me in a split second. He looked at me as if he was calling out for help. As a desperate man looking for some freedom from this hustle. However, I was just fortunate enough to be born into the right family. I could not help him. I turned away, and continued to walk with Niko, lighting a cigarette in the process.

There was a squawk of an oboe that shattered through the noise, followed by a sweet voice humming to the gentle drums. Ramus clenched his hand, knowing that was the sound of the night. He took his hat off, and put it on his heart. He had fallen for this sound, he was simply head over heels for this voice. And dammit, he needed to put a face to that sound. Niko felt like this was someone he knew. Definitely someone he wanted to see more. Danny said he found that sound very nice, and I thought it was beautiful. It was a scheme for us to flock to the sound, as we all happily marched into this gorgeously disgusting lounge.

Our eyes were glued on stage, as the spotlight was centered on a beautiful voice. She sang so steadily, yet she showed her fear of the crowds. The attention was messing with her head, shakily maintaining her voice demeanor. She sang for us, sang like it was the last song she would ever sing. She swept low down, to put us to sleep, and went up to declare our freedom. The band abandoned by a magnum-caliber performance. I was certainly enamored by that voice, and I could tell the others were as well.

There seemed to be a moment of shock from the performer after the song was finished. She had noticed Ramus and then myself, and had thanked us for showing up. She sang another song, while we had a few drinks, and she then got off the stage to speak with us.

"I hope you all enjoyed that performance." She said to me, as she put her hand on Ramus' shoulder. I could see out of the corner of my eye a little rage that had built up in Niko, possibly over the fact that she was a very admirable woman.

"It was enchanting, I feel truly liberated from some of these other performances." Ramus said dramatically. Arguably true, but nothing like the Runts.

"You're incredibly talented, miss." Danny said, and stuck out his hand, which she reluctantly shook in return.

"What a wonderful showing!" I said, and properly greeted her. I felt like this was when Danny began to catch on a little about our customs. Ramus had his own, and failed to explain ours to him. I cannot blame Danny completely.

"I didn't even know that was how we were supposed to greet people." Danny addressed Ramus. Niko then explained to him a proper greeting, with a kiss on the right and left cheek.

"Oh, an American! Is he a performer?" She asked me quietly, as he was being lectured.

"So I've been told. I haven't seen anything out of him. He's got some knowledge though, since he recognized the both of us."

"Well, you are pretty iconic, Mr. Valenti."

"So formal, Miss..." I didn't know her name.

"Lena Joelle." She put stood akimbo and proud.

"Ah, Lena Jo. Right, I've head a lot about you. I guess I heard correctly."

"I'm surprised you have even heard of me."

"Well, your name is thrown around without hesitation around the Yards."

"So, it is only a matter of time?" She looked happily as I nodded. "Gosh that's exciting. It'll be hard to leave here though. The owners say I pull in over half the traffic."

"With how far your voice can reach, I am certain the crowds on the street will notice you. And eventually, the crowds in the Yards as well."

Niko leaned into her, and began to push further with his shenanigans. He had some game, not very gentle but being forward didn't hurt. Lena was polite to his antics, never fully taking the bait but always tugging on that line. I saw sparks fly as the two conversed, not many but still some.

Ramus took to me, as we observed him but downed the drinks that we had. I was beginning to feel the rush of those emotions. It was about that girl Adele. She seemed different to me, a pointless point to make about a woman. I could see in her eyes sin, hiding behind the stars in her eyes. Beautiful criminal. The cigarette steadied me, as I prepared to give her a text. Then decided that in my state, I'd rather make a move soberly.

"I was curious, Jo." Ramus began. "Where do you see yourself going next year?"

"Couldn't tell you really. I'm focused on tomorrow and the next day. I don't decide my gigs, but I'd like to at some point."

"Well, if you'd like, we could begin a little thing with each other." He sat more straight. "You have the reputation, and I have many people who could be part of a band, including Lena here."

"Yeah, we will see." I returned. "I know that I wouldn't have any problems with my connections. But you must know the state of the business."

"Don't want to get me out of the Hustle? Or what is it?"

"I want to make a new sound, you know. I need special talents to take it there. But that sound requires Hikaru Oni on guitar."

"Well, that's quite a name to drop. The Valenti family is much more prestigious than the Devil."

"I like his sound. But I'm afraid of some of the repercussions of doing so. Doing something would mean risking my own family over what I want. And that doesn't mean success either. Lena could sing, but I'll see. Someone like him, from the Pits, it's risky."

"I could always join. Oboe was my first instrument, you know."

"I'll let it play out."

Danny looked at our conversation, falling similarly behind like he did before. I imagine he was itching for myself to try and help him. I thought it would be better to let him see me work. The actions I took would likely greatly influence him, even as a person, I felt that whatever I did, he would try and emulate that action. An American here was not a good fit, still. Maybe he could make it in America, but not here.

"So, what is it like being in such a prestigious band and family?" Danny asked me. Ramus gave him a strange look, as I barely obliged him.

"I don't know, Danny. It's kinda hard to say since I've lived it my entire life."

"I imagine it's pretty easy coming from where you are. Your mom is very talented. You're very fortunate."

"I know I am, but that hardly makes it easy. There is an immense amount of pressure coming from such a family. Before my dad left, it was hellish to try and become a good musician under the pressure of legends."

"Your father was very good, was he not? Did he not teach you?"

"Not very much. He wanted me to be my own artist, not like himself. He taught me some, but after I was able to play on my own, he left me to my own devices."

"Why?"

"I don't really want to talk about my father, Danny."

He completely dropped it after that. I was thankful he didn't think to keep talking. He was far too inquisitive for my liking, even though I wanted to help him realize his efforts were likely in vain. I asked him a little about what he played, and I was frankly unimpressed with him. Everything he tried to do was to impress me, but i had seen thousands of artists like him. Nothing really surprised me that much anymore.

Regardless of my own predisposition against Americans coming here, it did not matter much whether you were American or not. Being in this kind of a storm makes anyone blind, especially delusions of grandeur that not even I have achieved. It is weird to think that to many of these people, I have made it as a career. Even though half of these musicians are better than I am, I still made it fortunately. It is one of the hardest things to do, and people don't assume that I had it easy. But they have never considered it, and to waste any thought on how they made it would be a shame to them.

Ramus leaned back over to me. And began to be more friendly, and less confrontational about his climb out of this place.

"How's the family, Jo? The Sea Biscuit is a very nice venue for you to play at." He asked.

"They're fine, I suppose. It seems like our permanent home for now, which is nice. I'd like to think of the Biscuit as our final destination. It is the highest achievement for my mother."

"Yes, yes. The Biscuit seemed like the place above it all. It is the gateway from the Yards into the Hills, most definitely. It's only a matter of time before your family will be in those upper echelons of the city. It's a shame that you still come down here."

"The Hustle is fun. More artists here than anywhere else. New Blood is the future, you know. I do believe that soon, the Hustle will be rather lovely."

"How optimistic of you. It's definitely got charm, but there are far too many artists here. Soon the name itself will have the same ring to it as the Runts. The system that we are in is not accommodating to us."

"And it's completely out of our control."

After I said this, the persona that was Ramus melted for a second. It was only a for a moment of time that he completely disappeared, and fell apart in a matter of moments. He began to realize he was trapped in a state of perpetual rising and falling. He was stuck between a world he could never reach and one he could never escape. I think he always believed he had some control over those things, over his career and his path. And his loss of control in this way made him lose control over himself.

Seeing him change to his old self, it made me feel like I was fortunate enough to be content with my position in this world. I knew I had very little control about whether I made it or not, but I had already made it compared to most of these people. The stroke of my hand could make people be relevant to this world, while my other could never help them up. It was a cruel thing to live in this world, but it was likely just as cruel in the rest of the world.

I did truly think on my friends living in this situation, but I felt it was not my duty to pull them out of their desperate situation, but theirs. I had lived far too well in this world for me to be selfless in this moment. Doing so meant sending myself to the gallows. To realize how this world worked made me see how I was just as trapped as Ramus was, in a completely different manner.

I sought counsel from this crisis with my first love, and it did not give me an answer that I liked. It was just another chain to the my own world, bound to the world that they tell you to be part of. To think that enough people would let go of this great system, would mean to exchange our chains for new ones, to match the hubris of our pretentious ascension.

I decided that I've had enough of the Hustle. I said goodbye to the four of them, as I departed and returned to my own in the Yards. I slumped up the stairs, sneaking as quietly as I could to my room. I opened the door to find Romeo, still awake at the zenith of the moon. He was getting high again, taking a hit from his favorite vase.

"Hello, Jo." He said in a tired manner.

"Hey, Romeo. Still up, huh?" I said to him, a little annoyed that he was high again.

"Have a good night with the guys?"

"Yes, but I can't believe you're smoking right now."

"What is the problem with that?"

"You shouldn't be getting high like this."

"What's the difference between your own smoking and mine?"

And thus, the great chain has come full circle. My own sins now wrap around and bound me down to this cursed object that I love. It all comes back to this slavery to something. This is what I have chosen, and now I am latched to this destiny. And what has that done to me? I still need to escape this madness.

I turned a blind eye to it, ignoring it as much as I could, and simply went to my bed to rest. And hopefully wake up in a better world.


End file.
